


I'm Looking Through You

by lovely_rita



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Domestic Violence, Fluff, Ghosts, Injury, M/M, Murder, george is done with their shit, i promise it's not as dark as it sounds, john loves him though, no one actually dies because they're already dead??, paul's an angry baby, ringo's a cute bean, though it's already happened so it's only mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_rita/pseuds/lovely_rita
Summary: When a boy appears in their house one day, polite and respectful and kind-hearted, they try to do everything they can to make sure he stays safe from an outside attacker.It's just unfortunate that they can't leave the house.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 25
Kudos: 53





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is sort of a side project whilst I work on my other fics, so I've just written it as a bit of fun and I thought my idea was good, so here we are!!
> 
> Please read and enjoy, though note that things will get angstier as the chapters go on <3

The three of them watch as the door opens, and a girl in a black jacket over a long green dress and a little torch walks in, eyes coated in thick eyeliner wandering around the dark house.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

The voice behind her is small, which is why it surprises them when a tall guy with his legs squeezed into a pair of leather jeans follows the girl, hands tightening in the back of her jacket because _obviously_ that will keep him safe. The girl tuts at him and moves into the main room, flicking her torch over the walls as the floor creaks beneath her weight.

“Y’know two people have died ‘ere,” she whispers, making the boy gulp rather loudly.

At her words, one of them huffs and kicks at a vase on the floor.

The girl stops, eyebrows shooting into her hairline as she turns around, ears on alert as the vase rolls over the floor.

“Did ya hear that?”

The boy nods, his eyes wide like a rabbit in the headlights, and stays still in shock as the girl walks away from him towards the stairs, scuffing her shoes against the grime under her feet.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he says, and she scoffs before pressing a foot onto the first step.

“I jus’ wanna find one of the bedrooms. It’s where the first one died y’know. Murdered with a machete.”

_Well, that’s not true_. One of them snickers and shuts a door, the slam echoing through the house causing the boy and girl to jump.

The boy watches the girl climb the stairs, and he stammers over his words before telling her he’s going. She rolls her eyes and watches him run out of the door before turning to walk up the stairs, her hands skimming over the red handprints on the wall. She practically tip-toes over the landing, her torch darting over the dated walls and crumbling doors. Her breath is loud, and it becomes apparent to them that she’s more scared than she lets on.

One of them smirks and shuts himself in the end bedroom.

She pushes open the first door with a slight squeak but lets out a shaky breath when she finds the bedroom empty. There’s an eerie creak through the house, and she holds her breath, moving along the floorboards to the next room. It’s the last one on this side of the corridor, and she knows it must be the one she’s looking for, as there’s a cross on the door like the one in the photo someone had shown her. She almost doesn’t want to look, but she twists the door handle and pushes the door. It opens with a slam, and she becomes face to face with what appears to be a ghost, his head bent at an odd angle with eyes black and a snarl. She screams, forcefully and guttural, before the torchlight goes out and she stumbles backwards in the dark, the ghost following her with a low growl. She plasters herself against the wall with a cry, her eyes flicking to the stairs, and she’s quick to run, tripping slightly on her feet as another door slam is heard and she wails, jumping down the last two steps to dart out of the house, throwing herself into her boyfriend’s awaiting arms outside. 

\--

“That’s the third time this week. I really wished we got paid for this.”

Paul frowns and looks up from where he’d been trying to pry the lid off a paint can.

“Oh yeah? An’ what would ya spend ya money on? It’s not like ya can leave y’know.”

George huffs and kicks at the can Paul is working on, eliciting a ‘ _hey_ ’ from the older boy, who then stands up to shove at him.

“What the fuck are ya doin’? I’ve been working on that for days.”

"Boo hoo, Paul. Sorry yer not strong enough to open a paint can,” George snickers, earning another shove from Paul whose eyes are beginning to turn a dangerous dark red.

“Don’t mess with me, George.”

It’s growled cynically, but George doesn’t move and instead smirks, willing to push Paul to his limit.

“What’s the matter, Paul? Still sour about yer death that happened ten bloody years ago?”

The paint can is thrown at him with the flick of Paul’s eyes, and it passes through George who shouts, his voice thunderous as he looks at Paul with a sardonic scowl.

“Children, please. I’d like to read in peace if ya can jus’ quiet down.”

John is between them, a hand pressed firmly against Paul’s chest causing the younger one to pout.

“He started it,” George says, and John turns his head sharply to glare at him.

“I’m not deaf. You know what happens if ya mention his death. It’s not like we talk about yer death that way.”

George huffs and steps back, watching with a squint how John strokes his hand gently over Paul’s shoulder as the younger one calms down.

“Yeah, an’ there’s a reason why ya don’t talk about mine, John.”

John grunts and George disappears to watch the rusty tv someone had left upstairs, leaving John to diffuse Paul.

\--

John groans, watching as a hoard of students bustle through the front door. He really just wanted to read in peace. He sighs and puts his book down, nudging Paul who startles awake after falling asleep with his head in John’s lap. He rubs at his eyes and squints as the students settle a few steps away from them.

“God I’m really not in the mood for this,” Paul grumbles, and John only laughs, patting his head before standing up. He moves to stand over the kids that have congregated in a circle, hands all linked together. John watches as a few of the girls light some candles, murmuring things low under their breath, and he sighs.

“Looks like we’ve got a seance on our hands, boys.”

George appears, groaning very loudly at the sight, and the girls whisper, obviously having heard him.

“Did ya have to be so loud?” John asks, and George rolls his eyes and sits on the floor.

“How do ya wanna do this then?” Paul asks, he and John sitting with George on the floor, practically surrounding the swarm of girls that are starting to chant shallowly under their breaths.

“I wanna appear,” George says, and it causes Paul to pout. 

"But you appeared last time.”

“Guys, I’m really not in the mood for yer bitchin’. George, you can appear-”

“But I wanted-”

“And Paul,” John says, interrupting his boyfriend. “You can use yer paint.”

It seems to be enough to shut Paul up, and he disappears momentarily before appearing again with his beloved paint can that he was able to open earlier that day after a close fight with a screwdriver.

The girls go silent, and George moves to sit right next to the one that appears to be the leader.

“Hello, is anybody there?”

The three ghosts look at each other, and John holds a finger to his lips to shush them.

“Are there any spirits here?”

John blows the candles out, chuckling slightly as a few of the girls whimper.

“What do ya want? Why are ya haunting this house?”

John blows out one of the candles, watching as one of the girls bursts into tears, screwing her eyes up in horror.

“Shut up Wendy. Don’t be a pussy,” the leader says, and John moves to brush his face against the crying girl’s hair.

“Shut up Wendy.”

He whispers it against her ear and she screams, jumping slightly in her spot before leaving, brushing her tears away with the back of her hand as she sobs loudly. The rest of the girls tear their eyes away from her when they hear a squeaking sound on the floor, and they watch as red marks appear, spelling out something slowly in the middle of the circle.

_Run_.

Screams are heard from all of them, and John makes the candles spark whilst the girls catch their eyes on George who’s peering between them, morphing his face with a grin. The girls scramble out, not even bothering to pick up their stuff, and the three ghosts laugh at the shrieks that can still be heard from the end of the street.

“Well, at least they left us some stuff,” George says, picking up one of the candles.

“Yeah. We can use these in the bath later, can’t we Paul,” John says with a wink, making Paul blush and George groan in disgust.

“I hate that I died and have to live the rest of eternity as a third wheel.”

John snickers and Paul only gives a small ‘ _sorry George_ ’ before the two of them disappear upstairs, leaving George to sulk.

\--

The door is opened forcefully, followed by the buzzing sound of an EMF meter, and Paul sighs from where he’s dangled upside down on the sofa. He’s not entirely surprised, he's actually quite miffed that no one turned up earlier. He watches as two ghost hunters walk into the house, the EMF meter humming lowly between. He sighs but doesn’t move, watching as they mutter, eyes on the red paint that Paul had put on the floor from the last seance, and he tilts his head and squints as they tut and shake their head.

He watches and only notices, ultimately way too late, that the man of the pair is sitting on the sofa, consequently sitting on his face. He shrieks as the man passes through him, and he moves to stand in front of him, hissing low in his throat and watching as the meter beeps loudly. The man jumps, and the woman turns to look at him with her eyebrow quirked.

“So, do ya think there’s anything here?”

The man watches the meter calm down for a second before shaking his head, and it makes Paul _seethe_.

He stomps his foot making the pair flinch, and he bursts the light bulb above him.

“What’s goin’ on?"

Paul whips around to look at John, his eyes a blistering red, and he rages, the curtain on the front window catching fire.

The two ghost hunters look on in horror, and John laughs before making his voice louder, thundering his cackle through the house, and the pair are quick to leave, the EMF meter beeping louder and louder.

When they’ve left, the curtain is nearly disintegrated, and Paul pants with fury before John places a hand on his shoulder, telling him to calm down quietly.

“They were my best curtains,” George says when he appears to blow out the fire.

“This isn’t even yer house,” John murmurs, glad when Paul’s eyes go back to normal. “Anyway, what’s got ya so pissed off? They were just ghost hunters.”

Paul sighs.

“I was sat on the sofa and he-he sat on me! An’ I was sat upside down.”

Paul pouts, and he hears as George howls behind him.

“Yer telling me yer head went up his arse?”

“S’not funny George,” Paul spits, but John is already pulling him against him, quietening him gently.

George doesn’t stop giggling until John shoots him a glare, and he disappears upstairs in a strop.

“Why do I ‘ave to like the angry one?” John murmurs, feeling Paul laugh lightly against him.

“You love me really,” Paul says, pulling away to kiss at John’s cheek.

\--

“Guys.”

George says it quietly from his place by the window and twists his head to look at the two ghosts lying on the sofa.

“What?” John says, putting down his book for the third time that day.

“I don’t think we should haunt this one.”

John frowns and looks up, watching as a boy that looks about his age, if he hadn’t have died, runs into the house, slamming the door behind him as he wheezes.

Paul moves from John’s lap to look at the boy, hearing him cry quietly into the back of his hand.

“Why is he upset?” Paul asks, and George shrugs, his eyes sympathetic as the boy moves his hand, showing the dark bruise along his cheekbone.

The sofa moves as Paul gets up, the screeching sound loud causing the boy to cower slightly, and George hits at his arm.

“Could ya be any more discreet, Paul?”

Paul mumbles a ‘ _sorry_ ’, and watches as the boy takes a deep breath.

“I know this house is meant to be haunted, but please be nice. I-I don’t ‘ave anywhere else to go.”

His voice trembles and John makes a sympathetic noise, appearing next to Paul.

“I wish we could help him,” George says, and the other two sigh. They watch as the boy straightens slightly, shrugging his bag further over his shoulder.

“I-I’m Ringo. I’ll go soon, jus’ let me stay here for a while. I promise I won’t get in yer way.”

The way Ringo speaks to them shocks them a little, and it makes them like him even more. They can’t remember the last time someone was so polite, or even respectful to them. Most people come in thinking they _chose_ to be ghosts. Which they didn’t. It annoys them to no end, but this Ringo kid seems almost too nice, and between the three of them, they decide to leave him in peace.

Paul and John go back to their places on the sofa, whilst George stands watching the boy as he trudges into the room to sit under the windowsill, as if trying to hide himself.

“What do ya think he’s running from?” George asks quietly, watching the boy tremble as he prods at the bruise on his cheek.

“I’m not sure I want to know,” John replies, his eyes flicking between his book and Ringo. Paul shifts slightly on his lap so that he can keep his eyes on Ringo, settling his head on John’s chest.

\--

Ringo stays until it gets dark, spending most of his time under the windowsill with the protection of his bag in his lap as he stays silent, and they watch as he gets up, wiping his eyes a final time.

“Thank you.”

He says it so kindly and yet so despondent that it curls something warm around their still hearts, and George moves as if he wants to give him a hug but stops himself before he can get too close.

They watch as he trudges away into the night, leaving the three of them alone. 

“I hope he comes back,” George says, slumping down on the arm of the sofa by Paul’s feet.

“Me too. Maybe we should speak to ‘im next time,” Paul says, yawning against John’s chest who bats at him.

“An’ what? Tell him he’s okay to stay in our house but he’ll have to live with three ghosts? Not likely, Paul. We’ll probably scare the kid out of his skin.”

"I don’t think it was us that he was worried about, Johnny,” Paul says, and they realise that it’s true. That there must be something out there much more terrifying than them for him to come in here alone knowing full well it’s one of the most haunted houses in Britain. It makes Paul feel slightly sick, and he moves to bury his face against John’s chest.

It’s true that the boy had quite an impression on the three ghosts, and they spend every day waiting for him to come back, scaring away any other intruders before they can even reach the main room.

Ringo doesn’t come back.

It somehow upsets them more than thinking about their own deaths, and George stays by the window waiting for him, watching as the frost begins to cover the ground and the leaves fall from the trees. The garden outside wilts and the house creaks as the nights grow colder, and the three ghosts claim the house as their own for a few months whilst it’s quiet.

_Waiting. Waiting. Waiting_.


	2. 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ringo comes back and learns of the spirits lurking in the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for those of you that read the last chapter! There were so many lovely comments and it makes me happy knowing you're enjoying this :)  
> This chapter is angstier than the last one, so make sure you READ THE TAGS before you continue!  
> Also, I just want to remind you that this is just something I wanted to write whilst I'm working on longer fics so it's only a side project and unfortunately I don't give it as much love as my others which is why it's not very long. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy and beware the angst ;)

It happens on a rainy night, and the three ghosts are pulled away from that night’s edition of top of the pops to find Ringo at the bottom of the stairs, drenched to the bone with his face bloody. His hand is battered and twisted, and they watch as he whimpers, sliding down the closed door.

Yes, there’s definitely something worse out there. And none of them want to find out what it is.

“I think we should help him,” Paul says, watching as Ringo stems his nose bleed with his jacket sleeve, though it does nothing to stop the blood from dripping on the floor.

“I think you should appear,” John says, patting George’s shoulder causing the younger man to scoff.

“Why me?”

“Because yer the only one out of the three of us that looks relatively normal. Ya have no blood on yer or anythin’,” Paul says, and George huffs, turning his attention back to Ringo, the poor lad whimpering as his sleeve catches against his bruised nose.

“Fine. But ya can’t leave me alone for too long.”

The other two sigh but agree, and George walks over and bends down next to Ringo.

“Hey.”

Ringo shrieks, eyes wide, and tries to scramble away, consequently letting go of his nose which sprays blood everywhere as he makes a panicked attempt to get away. He doesn’t get any further than shuffling away on the side of his knees because his legs are too shaky to stand up, and George makes a sympathetic noise.

“Hey, no it’s fine. My name is George. I’m here to help.”

Ringo’s eyes are still apprehensive but he stops moving to stare at George, his hand moving back to wipe at his nose.

“Y-yer a ghost.”

He stammers it quietly as he looks at George, seeing how he has a blue sheen covering his body, making him almost look see-through. George is actually quite impressed he caught on so quickly, and he flashes a smile that seems to make Ringo relax slightly, his shoulders deflating as he sinks back against the wall behind him.

“That I am, but it don’t mean I’m horrible y’know.”

Ringo looks at him slightly confused, but he shifts a little, his eyes never leaving George.

“Yer gonna help me.”

“Yeah, we are,” George replies, smiling slightly when Ringo begins to look less alarmed.

“We?”

George looks back over to Paul and John, who Ringo still can’t see, before twisting his head back again.

“Err yeah. There’s two more but I swear they’re nice guys. I’ve been dead long enough with them to know they aren’t gonna scare ya.”

Ringo only nods, pulling his sleeve away from his nose when he realises it’s stopped bleeding. There’s blood drying across his cheeks and small rivulets drip from his chin, but he sniffs and gives a small smile.

“Can I meet them?”

George nods and turns to face the others who had been talking quietly behind him. John appears first, a washcloth in tow that Paul had smacked into his hand in an attempt to make it sort of a peace offering. He hands it to Ringo, who takes it from his hand hesitantly.

“I’m John.”

Ringo nods and gives a quiet ‘ _hullo_ ’ as he wipes the rest of the blood from his face. Paul appears shortly after, standing next to John with a kind smile.

“An’ I’m Paul-“

“McCartney.”

Paul frowns and looks at Ringo, and the other two ghosts look at Paul to try and decipher his expression.

“How do you know who I am?”

Ringo gives a sympathetic smile and places the bloodied cloth on the floor next to him.

“People still talk about ya y’know. The McCartney murder still hits the papers. You were killed by a knife yeah?”

“No that would be me,” John says, pointing to the stab wound in his chest. Ringo looks at him, before his eyes flit over to the other ghosts, taking in their images, and his eyes linger on the funny shape of George’s neck and the dark marks along Paul’s neck and face.

“Wait so how did ya all die, if ya don’t mind me askin’.”

George sighs, rather loudly, earning a small hit in the shoulder from Paul for being rude, and gestures to the battered sofa in the corner. Ringo looks a little sceptical but sits down, and George sits next to him, though keeps a fair distance between them. John decides it better to sit on the floor facing Ringo, and Paul does too, his knee bumping John’s.

“Well, I guess I’ll start. I came here with my girlfriend to break up with her, and let's say I know next time not to piss off a girl when there’s a knife around.”

John says it so matter of factly that it makes Ringo laugh a little, causing John to glance at him disapprovingly, and so Ringo mumbles a small apology before George clears his throat.

“Well I came ‘ere by myself to check it out, and some _idiot_ made me jump and I fell down the stairs and broke me neck.”

George’s eyes are glaring deathly at John who sighs and holds his hands up in surrender.

“I told ya I was sorry.”

“Wait,” Ringo says, looking at John. “You killed him?”

John huffs and Ringo watches as Paul’s hand rubs at his knee calmly.

“By accident.”

George makes a small noise, crossing his arms and slumping back against the sofa.

“What about you, Paul?”

Paul blinks before his eyes slide down, and John takes his hand subtly, though Ringo notices and tries not to let his eyes linger.

“Kidnapped. Dragged here. Tortured for a bit an’ then when he realises no one was comin’, strangled me to death.”

Paul’s eyes don’t leave the floor, and John squeezes his hand as Paul slumps next to him. He brings a hand around Paul’s back to pull him closer as the other sniffs.

“I’m sorry,” Ringo says, but Paul shakes his head.

“Don’t be. It happened a long time ago.”

Silence lingers longer than comfortable, so when John starts whispering quietly in Paul’s ear, who equally starts whispering back, Ringo turns to face George who is watching him intently.

“So why are ya still here?”

“Our bodies are still ‘ere,” George replies with a shrug, and Ringo grimaces at the thought. He hates to think there are just three dead bodies lying around, and he wonders if they find it weird to know their actual selves are still here.

“Where?”

He regrets it a soon as he says it, curiosity killed the cat his mother would’ve said, but George doesn’t seem too bothered.

“Well, after these idiots left me at the bottom of the stairs for a week, no one came to find me, or at least they didn’t look here, so they buried me in the garden.”

George’s eyes are back into a glare on John’s who sneers at him.

“Tosser,” George mumbles, and Ringo laughs quietly.

“At least yer not stuffed in a bloody cupboard in the basement,” John says, but George just shrugs.

“I didn’t put ya there though did I, ya pillac.”

“Will you two shut up? Yer givin’ me a fuckin’ headache,” Paul says, but John just laughs and pets Paul’s hair.

“Yer a ghost, Paul. Ya can’t get a headache.”

“Fuck off,” Paul says, shoving John sideways who laughs.

“I don’t know where I am. Me an’ John looked a few years ago but couldn’t find anything,” Paul says, and John makes a funny face to which Paul pouts at. 

“Yer probably in the ground with George. But I ain’t diggin’ up the whole house to find ya.”

“Wouldn’t want to,” Paul says, flicking John’s nose who frowns at him. “I’ll just be a skeleton by now. Rather have the memory I when I looked human.”

Ringo nods at him, and bites his lip and looks away slightly when John laughs and kisses Paul chastely on the lips.

“Ignore them,” George says. “It’s like they’ve died an’ stayed in the honeymoon phase.”

“Were they together before?”

George looks over to them, watching as they giggle silently together, and shakes his head.

“No, but they were here a long time before I was, especially Paul, and I guess they’ve spent so long together that they fell in love. An’ I guess John helps Paul when he gets angry.”

Ringo frowns, not quite understanding because Paul seems like the kind of guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. The sound of Paul's giggle hits the air as John says something that must be funny in his ear, and it makes Ringo all the more confused as to how such a lovely lad could get angry.

“He’s been ‘ere a long time y’know? And when you’ve been dead that long it makes ya go a bit crazy and so he can jus’ get angry some times,” George says when he sees Ringo’s puzzled face.

“Tell us why yer here then.”

Ringo looks over to John, who’s looking back at him expectantly, and Ringo fidgets slightly and looks down.

“C’mon. We shared with you. It’s only fair if you do too.”

His eyes stay on the floor, and he hears an ‘ _ow_ ’ from John who he suspects has probably been jabbed by Paul, for the other man says, “Ya don’t have to tell us if ya don’t want to Ringo.”

He can feel all eyes on him, and he sighs shakily, hands fiddling together to try and calm himself.

“Who hurts ya?” George asks quietly, and Ringo can feel a gentle hand on his knee. He’s not sure if he wants to reply, but he feels himself opening up to them nevertheless. It seems these ghosts are kind, kinder than anyone he’s spoken to so far, and it seems he doesn’t know what else to do than tell them why he’s intruding in their home.

“Me da.”

He closes his eyes, feeling a tear drip into his lap, and he expects gasps and comments of disgust because ‘ _he should stand up for himself_ ’ but none come. There’s only silence, though it’s tensely comfortable, and George’s hand doesn’t move from his knee.

“I know he doesn’t mean it an’ he only does it when he’s pissed but-”

“No don’t try and excuse his behaviour.” Paul’s voice slices the air with a sense of hostility that causes Ringo to flinch slightly.

“He has no right to do that to ya.”

Ringo only lets the tears fall into his lap because he’s unsure about what else to say.

“Hey,” George says quietly, patting Ringo’s knee softly making the boy look up at him with teary eyes.

“Ya can stay ‘ere as long as ya want an’ ya can come ‘ere anytime. We don’t mind, do we boys?”

Ringo’s eyes flick over to the other two ghosts, tangled in an embrace that hides Paul’s face against John’s chest as John settles him with a hand on his back. Paul shakes his head whilst still keeping his face hidden, looking almost ashamed which confuses Ringo because he can’t understand what he could’ve done wrong, and John gives a small smile and a reply of ‘ _no’_.

Ringo smiles at them thankfully, and George squeezes his knee gently.

“Now, why don’t ya come upstairs with us and we can see if we can catch the end of top of the pops yeah?”

George’s kindness makes Ringo flush, and he nods his head eagerly as he stands. He follows George up the steps, the other two still on the floor in the main room, until they get to one of the bedrooms. There’s a massive bed, and George sits on the end nearest the wall, gesturing for Ringo to sit next to him as he flicks on the tv. Ringo climbs onto the bed and sits next to George, letting himself sink against the pillows slightly.

The program is near the end before John and Paul come up, and they appear on the bed suddenly making Ringo nearly jump out of his skin.

“Sorry,” John says, both him and Paul muffling their laughs against each other before George throws a pillow at them, eliciting a ‘ _hey_ ’ from Paul which makes George bark out a laugh.

They spend the rest of the night watching tv, the sound of rain echoing through the room as Ringo drifts to sleep, only to be awakened by a loud thud from downstairs.

“There’s someone here,” John says, and the four of them sit up on high alert wondering who the hell could be here at this time of night. They hear the sound of heavy boots slamming against wood, and Ringo’s breath stifles in his chest when a shout thunders through the house.

“RICHARD.”

Ringo freezes, and the three ghosts turn to look at him with wide eyes. He can’t believe he’s been found, and he digs his fingernails into his palms as tears sting his eyes.

“Who is it, Ringo?” George whispers and Ringo shakes, his arms moving to wrap around himself as the sound of footsteps continue up the stairs.

“It’s me da.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and a kudos if you're enjoying it so far. Only one more chapter to go!!  
> You can also find me on tumblr at lovely-rita-meter-maidd where I take requests, but don't be afraid to come and say hi!!  
> p.s. John is a cute bean in this and I love him  
> Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think!!  
> You can also find me on tumblr at lovely-rita-meter-maidd where I take requests, but don't be afraid to come and say hi!!  
> Thank you so much for reading <3 <3 <3 <3


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